


Of Betrayal and Broken Promises

by InvisibleAce



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied Smut, M/M, Not Beta Read, Some fighting, Violence, angel au, nothing too crazy though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21920929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvisibleAce/pseuds/InvisibleAce
Summary: He betrayed God. He betrayed his fellow angels. He betrayed Heaven. All because of the werewolf.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 3
Kudos: 68





	Of Betrayal and Broken Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, this is my first Teen Wolf fanfiction and haven't I watched the show in years so please be nice. This fic is based off of risu-kii's idea on tumblr and is dedicated (and for) my best friend. 
> 
> Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

Everyone warned him. 

They all said the same thing: that getting involved with a werewolf was a bad idea. A dangerous idea. An idiotic idea. 

The danger -  _ the risk _ \- was what kept bringing him back time and time again. He just never expected this outcome, not in a million years. 

The pain was unbearable but the shame - oh the  _ shame _ \- was so much worse. To have the one thing that was always a constant in his life ripped away from him, literally and figuratively, hurt more than words could express. 

The clouds overhead hiding the sun from him, mocking him, banishing him from ever returning home. His back screamed in protest when he tried to get up, forcing him to lay lifeless on the ground. 

Stiles was wingless, banished from his kind for all eternity, all because he had to go and fall for a werewolf. 

For Derek. 

* * *

_ Five months before  _

When Stiles was sent to Earth he only had one purpose. One reason. One goal: keep humanity safe. 

Every angel that’s sent to Earth has the same objective, there’s just various ways to go about it. There’s guardian angels who are assigned to a human to watch over for the rest of the humans short life. Some chose to live among humans and adopting their ways of life. Helping anyway they can and passing as a helpful stranger. Often being called miracle workers. 

Then there’s the fights - the soldiers - which is where Stiles was assigned. 

It’s not one of the most favored ways to help humanity. Stiles wasn’t a huge fan of the violence that goes with his job. It’s their job to make sure the humans are safe from the threats that walk among them and are oblivious to. He’s been training his whole life, since getting assigned his position at creation, for dealing with whatever comes their way.

Werewolves are the newest thing. 

They started to appear a few years back, appearing in the West mostly. A very few packs have been seen out East but seem to favor the West so that’s where Stiles and his partner, Isaac, were sent. To a small town of Beacon Hills. For such a quaint place it seemed to be crawling with supernatural activity. Darkness creeping into the town slowly. Stiles knew this fight wasn’t going to be easy. The others would report back that their towns seemed to be fine, coming across a pack or two and taking them out with ease. 

Beacon Hills seems to be too far gone. 

They have a house at the edge of town near the woods. Out of the way and close enough to the woods for them to do their jobs. They’ve been taking turns going on patrol, scoping the surroundings areas for any leads. Tonight they both decided to go out, sticking together as they trekked through the seemingly endless woods. 

“Tell me again why we agreed to this?” Isaac complained for the tenth time in the past hour. 

Stiles sent a look his friends way. “We didn’t. It’s our assignment. We have to do it.” 

Isaac sighed and justled his wings a bit. “Right.” 

Stiles bit back a sigh of his own and continued on, walking a few steps ahead of Isaac to scan the area. There was nothing but trees. Trees upon trees upon trees. It’s been the same thing every night for the past month. No leads, no clues. No idea if there’s even werewolves in this area. For all they know the pack could have up and left. Leaving them to look in circles for who knows how long. They can’t exactly go back up with nothing. Stiles highly doubts that would go over well with the other angels. He does know that Deaton wouldn’t be happy, let alone God. They have to find the smallest piece of evidence within the next month or else - well Stiles isn’t exactly sure what’ll happen after that and he doesn’t want to find out. 

“How are we supposed to tell a werewolf apart from a human anyway?” Isaac questioned. “They all look the same when they’re not wolfed up.” 

Stiles looked to the sky, trying not to snap at Isaac. All he’s asking are harmless questions but they’re questions that have been covered before they left for Earth. He took a deep breath before stopping and looking over at the other angel. 

“If they’re a werewolf, they’ll be able to see our wings and, I don’t know, probably freak out and go feral. Plus they’ll have a dark air around them.” Stiles shuddered at the thought of feeling something so dark. “You’ll just know.” 

Isaac laughed suddenly, it echoing throughout the woods. “You have the answer for everything.” 

“I just paid attention in the debriefings.” Stiles shot back, laughter in his voice. “Come on, let’s finish this sweep and call it a night. The suns almost up.” 

The two started off again, heading deeper into the woods. The treelining was thickening, the early morning sky disappearing as they went. They haven’t ventured this far before, opting to stick closer to the house and going into town. Stiles realizes that they probably should’ve headed deeper from the beginning. All those silly scary stories humans tell always start deep in the woods. Surely that’s where they could find a monster of their own. 

A hand grabbing his arm made him stop abruptly, sending a wave of panic coursing through him. He turned to face Isaac with wide eyes. He didn’t see anything that could make the other angel stop so soon. Stiles licked his lips, eyes scanning the surrounding area. Isaac was staring over to their right, an unreadable expression on his face. Stiles strained his eyes harder and was able to see what Isaac was staring at. 

A house. There was a house in the middle of the woods, tucked away in between the trees. Stiles couldn’t make much of it from so far away but it looked old. Isaac and him shared a look before changing direction and headed for the house. They kept their steps light, dodging tree branches and dry leafs. They easily could have flown over but their wings weren’t exactly stealthy. They were big and pure white. They would be easy to see in the night sky. Given they were still obvious from where they were tucked against their backs. There wasn’t a lot of room for them to take off anyway. The trees were much more dense this far in. 

The house was old, very old. Age covered every edge of it. It seemed to be on the verge of collapsing. It was obvious it was abandoned, Stiles knew that no one would be able to live in such a place. He walked around the side as Isaac went to the porch, gasping when he saw the damage that was done to the back. The wood was burned. A dark black that was visible in the dark, the wood cracked. He gently reached out and touched it, frowning when small parts flaked off. His fingertips came back darkened with soot. A house fire. Stiles was heartbroken for the family whose home it was. He never had an actual home before but he had a room back in Heaven. He couldn’t imagine losing his own corner of the world. 

“Lets go inside.” Isaac said, poking at the front door. 

Stiles walked back around, eyeing the house with uncertainty. “Are you sure? It looks unstable.” 

Isaac pushed at the door, smiling when it creaked open. It was loud in the quiet stillness of the woods. He looked back at Stiles, shrugged and headed inside; not even waiting for Stiles to get on the porch. He jogged the rest of the way, faltering for a moment right before the door. The whole place looked like it would come crashing down if enough weight was put on it. He really doesn’t want to be crushed by a house today. He also doesn’t want his friend to be crushed either - meaning it’s up to him to go in and get Isaac out as soon as possible. 

Damn him and his knack for adventure. 

“Stiles!” Isaac called. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Not liking the underlying fear in his friend's voice, Stiles hurried into the house and followed the sound of Isaac’s movement. “What’s wrong?” 

Isaac didn’t say anything, pointing at the wall in front of him. As Stiles got closer he noticed the markings on the wall. Claw marks. Deep scratches that he knew for sure no normal animal could make. They were far too large and jagged. The scratches zig-zagged each other, crossing over as if done blindly and in a fit of pure rage. 

The markings of a feral beast. 

Stiles’ heart dropped into his stomach, his eyes widened as he turns to see all the other walls in the room are covered in the same scratches. Some traveling to the floor where small red puddles were just noticeable in the rising sun sneaking it’s way into the dirty windows. He stilled as the sound of heavy footsteps sounded from outside. Isaac hurried over to the window, crouching down to avoid being seen. Stiles willed his feet to unsick from the floor, fear still there as he followed his friends lead; kneeling down and wiping away the layers of grime from the glass to see out it. 

There was definitely someone out there, Stiles could just make out the shape of a body heading towards the house. The person was walking swiftly, stopping and looking over their shoulder every few steps. As they grew closer Stiles noticed that it was a man, carrying a body over his shoulder. Isaac’s hand grabbed Stiles’ arm again, making him look away from the figure and over at his friend, who looked scared beyond belief. 

“We need to go. We’re not prepared for a fight. That dude looks ripped.” Isaac said in a hushed yell, glancing out the window again. 

Stiles knew that Isaac had a point. They didn’t come out here looking for a fight, just to gather evidence. A recon mission as Isaac has taken to calling it. He’s taken to watching those action movies that humans were so fond of. He’s also adopted some of their terms for things. Lucky for them though, Stiles always comes prepared. 

Without taking his eyes off of the man, he slowly reached down to grab his dagger that was tucked away on his waistband. He knew better than to walk into the woods in the middle of the night without a weapon. That was the first thing Deaton taught them: never go out without being armed. 

“Stay here.” Stiles said to Isaac, not waiting to hear his response before heading towards the door. He made sure to stay low to the ground to stay unseen. He was careful of where to step, sure that the wrong step could give away in position. He peeked out from behind the door and saw the man was closer, close enough to confirm that there was a body slung over the man's shoulder. 

The body of a teenager. 

Before he could second guess himself, Stiles tightened his hold on his dagger before running out of the house. There was no stupid battlecry that other angels in his training did. He kept as quiet as possible. Feather like steps across the broken wood porch and down the steps. He ran full force at the man, taking him by surprise. He fell backwards, rolling and slamming against a tree. The body he was holding went down as well. Stiles eyed the man laying near the trees before going over to the seemingly unconscious body. He kneeled down next to it, gently grabbed their face and turning it so he could see. 

It was a teenage boy, scratches covered his face and blood was seeping through the sleeve of his shirt. Fearing the worst, Stiles reached over the boy and grabbed the sleeve and pull it upward. When he saw the bite mark on the boys upper arm, rage flared in him. He stood, looking from the unconscious teenager to the man who was now standing, watching him. 

Without warning, the other man ran forward with a cry that sounded a lot like a growl to Stiles. Stiles dodged his attack, tucking and rolling to the side. He sprung back up on his knees, dagger at the ready. The man -  _ werewolf  _ his mind supplied - attacked again, this time managing to graze Stiles with his claws. He didn’t stop to think about it, ducking a swinging fist and swiping out with his dagger as he got out of the way. There was a pained grunt and Stiles watched the other man stagger a bit, clutching his side. 

Using the mans distractment to his advantage he took a running start towards him again, using his wings to give him the extra push off the ground. He kicked the man right in the chest, sending him to the ground. Stiles quickly got on top of him, knee digging just below his collarbone and dagger to his throat. 

Glowing yellow eyes glared up at him, fangs bared. Stiles tried to ignore the overwhelming darkness that was coming off the man below him. It didn’t feel like how Deaton told them all. It was hardly sinister or ominous. It was almost… alluring. Stiles wanted to find out more about the darkness that follows this werewolf around. He blinked as footsteps and a yell came from behind him. 

“You bit an innocent human?” Stiles sneered. “Attacking unsuspecting creatures is weak.” 

“Kinda how you attacked me?” The man shot back. 

Stiles pressed his dagger closer to the man's neck. “You’re not innocent, you’re a monster. There’s a difference.” 

Isaac appeared at his side, a look of disbelief on his face. “Did you really just take down a werewolf  _ by yourself _ ?” 

“It was hardly a fight.” Stiles didn’t look away from the yellow eyes. It’s not that he couldn’t he just- he didn’t want to. 

“Who are you?” The man growled. 

His voice was deep and a bit gravelly. It took Stiles by surprise. He suppressed a shiver that threatened to run down his spine. His wings did flutter the smallest bit. They caught the man's attention. His eyes widened, the yellow fading a bit. 

“Angels.” He said breathlessly. Stiles ignored how much he enjoyed the sound. 

“You didn’t answer my colleagues question,” Isaac said, pointing to the still unconscious human at his feet. “You bit a human? Low move man.” 

“I didn’t bite him,” The man defended himself. “I’m trying to save him from the person who did.” 

Stiles looked at Isaac over his shoulder. His fellow angle didn’t look too impressed. “You really think we’re gonna believe that?” 

The man huffed. “No, I don’t, seeing that you angels are close minded when it comes to the supernatural.” 

A flare of annoyance lit in Stiles’ chest. Who does this guy - this  _ wolf _ \- this he is? Judging them on biased thoughts? Angles care about all God's creations. Supernatural beings are from the darkest pits of Hell. How dare he think little of them - of Stiles. 

Awareness also hits Stiles square in the chest. He’s judging the other based on what he was told, the personal biases that have been passed on from generation to generation of angels. Who is he to say that this one werewolf could be the one that isn’t like the others? One that isn’t feral and bloodthirsty. 

Isaac is still next to the boy, who seems to be waking up a bit. There was movement. It was sluggish but it was there. The boy would for sure be confused. The man would be the one to be able to help him through the change. There’s no telling what the boy would do if he saw Isaac and Stiles. It would overwhelm his small human heart to learn about just not werewolves being real but angels as well. Stiles worried his bottom lip between his teeth before retracting his dagger and standing. 

“Help him,” Stiles glared. He pointed his dagger at the man on the ground. “Don’t make me regret this.” 

“Stiles.” Isaac was watching the exchange with wide eyes. “You’re just gonna let him go?” 

The man stood up slowly, eyes never leaving Stiles. He brushed himself off. “ _ Him _ had a name. It’s Derek.” 

It suited him. The man - Derek - features had gone back to normal, making him look like a regular human. The surrounding darkness was still there, lingering around them. Derek had beautiful dark brown eyes that made Stiles’ hard skip a beat when they met his blue ones. He pushed away those feelings, hoping they weren’t showing on his face as he spoke. 

“Well then Derek,” Stiles hated how much he liked how it sounded on his tongue. “Make sure the boy is taken care of. Get him back home. I’m sure there’s someone who will be looking for him.” 

Derek didn’t answer, just stood there. Questions danced in his eyes. He looked a bit curious. He tipped his head to the side as if that would help him figure out whatever he’s looking for. 

“You’re just gonna let me go?” He asked and Isaac made a noise of agreement. “I thought angels were the catch and capture, ask questions later type.” 

“And I thought werewolves were the type to just kill on sight and not help defenseless humans.” Stiles shot back, glaring at Derek.

Derek didn’t say anything in return. He walked past Stiles, bumping his shoulder with his as he went. Stiles huffed in annoyance. Derek picked up the boy, slinging him over his shoulder again and headed for the destroyed house again. Isaac stepped out of his way, watching him warily. Stiles didn’t move until Derek was in the house, door closed behind him. He looked towards the sky, knowing he went about that all wrong, he should've killed Derek where he stood. Helped the boy some other way or would he have to kill him too? He didn’t want to think about that too much. The sun was now visible through the trees. They’ve been out all night. 

Stiles put his dagger away, glancing over at Isaac. “Lets go.” 

* * *

For some unknown reason, a few days later found Stiles back in the middle of the woods at the nearly burnt down house. He didn’t go near it or back inside. He stood out front, using the trees to shield himself from sight. 

Isaac had went into town, figuring there could be some activity there. He did ask Stiles if he would like to go but he refused. Stiles did intend to stay in, to fill out a report that there’s evidence of werewolf packs in Beacon Hills but they have yet found the actual creatures themselves. He wasn’t going to tell about Derek. It would be on his record if it was reported that he didn’t kill the wolf, that he showed mercy. He could say he did it because of the boy. The young boy that was turned and who’s whole life will be turned upside down. If Derek is true to his word, he’s the help that boy will need to get through the whole ordeal. Stiles would be the monster if he took away the only support system for the young teen. 

That was something Deaton called his weakness: empathy. Stiles has never been a fan of hunting and killing living things, monsters or not. Over the years he’s tried to forget it, tried to reason with himself that they’re doing it to better the world and keep humans and angels alike safe. Stiles had become one of the top fighters in training, showing no mercy for his opponents but underneath the raging and fury was the intense feeling of  _ wrongness _ . It burned hot. To the point where it was becoming harder and harder to ignore. He suppressed as long as he could. Deaton could never be the wiser that Stiles still didn’t want to kill werewolves or any supernatural being. 

Yes he has major empathy problems but that does explain why he’s at the destroyed house again. Why he’s hoping to run into Derek again. Obvious he just wants to know if the boy is alright - he did look worse for wear that night. Isaac had said that it wasn’t their problem to worry about the boy, he’s a werewolf now after all, and Stiles had pretended to agree. A little white lie never hurt anyone. 

The house looked different in the setting sun light. It still looked terrible but Stiles could see the appeal of living there, using it as a hide out away from the rest of the world. Maybe that's what Derek did. Hid when things got to be too much. Surely there’s things that even werewolves couldn’t handle. Stiles hates that he’s itching to know what worries Derek and what scares him, so he could help him. 

“What are you doing here?” A rough voice spoke behind him, making Stiles jump. He whipped around and saw Derek standing there. 

“A stake out.” Stiles thought quickly. “Making sure you haven’t been doing anything stupid or biting any more unsuspecting humans.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I already told you that I didn’t bite that kid. Someone else did.” 

“There’s other werewolves around here?” Stiles looked around, as if the said werewolves would happen to be hiding behind a tree. 

Derek sighed, looking tried. “Yeah. My family.” 

That really took Stiles by surprise. “Your family is a bunch of feral werewolves that attack humans for fun?” 

Derek looked insulted. “What? No! I never said they were feral. How the hell did you gather that by two words?” 

Stiles shrugged. “I’m good at guessing.” 

“No you’re good at bullshitting,” Derek, once again, pushed past Stiles and bumped their shoulders in the process. He stopped in the clearing and turned back. “You coming?” 

Stiles raised an eyebrow, looking from Derek to the house and then back to Derek. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah, seriously. I’m not gonna have you stand there and making stupid assuptions about my family,” Derek looked down at his shoes, kicking a stick. “And I figured that maybe you could help.” 

“Help?” Stiles asked as he followed Derek towards the house. He didn’t intend to follow him but it seemed like his body had other plans. He willingly let Derek lead him into the house, not even flinching when the door was locked behind them. 

There's a giant hole in the far back wall for a getaway if needed. 

Derek lead him into a room that had couches but Stiles isn’t sure he could call it a living room. There was a fine layer of dust on most surfaces besides the ones that he’s guessing aren’t used all that much. Stiles took a seat on the couch, waiting for Derek to take a seat and start talking but he started pacing. Running his hands through his hair and looking like he was trying to figure out what to say. 

“This house used to belong to my family,” He started. Stiles’ eyes went wide. “There was a fire a few years ago and killed most of them. They used to help Beacon Hills. Protecting it from threats and whatnot. Then the fire happened and some of my family members that did survive became vengeful or just full of anger. Some just moved on, found other packs to join.” 

Stiles tried to understand all that was being said. His heart went out to Derek. It sounded terrible but Stiles wasn’t exactly sure why or how he came into play. “What happened to your pack?” 

“It still exists, it’s just in shambles,” Derek finally took a seat next to him. He rested his head on the back of the couch, looking up at the ceiling. He laughs but there isn’t much humor behind it. “The Hale pack is a thing of the past. There’s not much to salvage from it.” 

“I don’t know much about packs but what about that boy? Couldn’t he join yours?” Stiles asked, turning to look at Derek. He studied his side profile. The dark stubble and dark hair. Mysterious yet warm. Stiles felt a pull towards the other man. A pull so intense it was overwhelming. 

Derek made a noise. Stiles didn’t really understand what it meant. “I’m not sure he’ll want anything to do with the pack. He was pretty shaken up.” 

“Understandably so.” 

Derek just nodded, still looking up at the ceiling. Stiles still didn’t know how he came into play. He was oddly touched that Derek trusted him, a stranger who held a dagger to his throat, with his past. It’s clearly something Stiles needed to know if they would be helping each other… right? That’s what this is? They two of them are gonna become unlikely friends and Stiles will help Derek with whatever his problem is. 

“Um,” Stiles looked around the dark house before looking back at Derek. “Not that I don’t appreciate you telling me about your family but why did you? In what way do you need my help?” 

Derek sighed, rolling his head to the side to look at Stiles. Stiles hated how endearing he found the action. “Peter, my uncle, has been out of hand. I’ve tried to handle him on my own but he doesn’t stop. He’s the one that bit Scott.” 

“Is Scott the boy from the other day?” Stiles asked and Derek nodded. 

“I haven’t seen or heard from him since before he turned Scott, still haven’t found him. He hasn’t been at any of his usual hideouts,” Derek wrung his hands. “I don’t know if he’s planning something or maybe he finally skipped town. I don’t know.” 

“I’m not gonna go and fight your uncle,” Stiles said bluntly, drawing a laugh out of Derek. “What does he look like? Isacc and I can at least keep an eye out for him and I can let you know if we find him.”

“Thanks.” Derek said but he didn’t seem to feel any better about the topic. 

Before he could overthink it, Stiles reached out and placed his hand on Derek’s thigh. He didn’t think anything of it but Derek tensed, looking from the hand on his leg to Stiles. Sensing that he did something wrong, Stiles went to move his hand away but Derek’s came to rest on top of his. Confused, Stiles looked up and saw Derek already watching him, an unreadable look in his eyes. 

Slowly, his other hand came up to cup the side of Stiles’ face. The pad of his thumb swept under his eye, brown eyes meeting blue. 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and those damn blue eyes.” Derek said, leaning in closer. 

“The feeling is mutual.” Stiles breathed. 

He found himself telling the truth. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, much less Isaac, that this mystery of a werewolf had captured his full attention within the hour they’ve met. Maybe it was the pure honesty that shone in those yellow eyes about wanting to help Scott. Maybe the darkness around Derek was hypnotizing. Stiles knew for sure that the aura around the man, and the man himself, were completely captivating. He hasn’t seen a human so stunning. So unique. 

So breathtakingly beautiful. 

Yet again Derek is a little more than a normal human. 

Angels never really experienced sexual attraction or, honestly, any kind of attraction. Not with each other and much less with a human or another species. There’s a sense of kinship among them but nothing behind that. Stiles isn’t sure if the feelings stirring inside him are new or if they’ve always been there. Either way he’s certain that he has never noticed them before. 

Derek's lips met his, making him jolt at the feeling of them touching before relaxing a bit. The fire that was swelling in his gut burned hotter. Kissing Derek just felt right. Like he finally found where he was meant to be. 

He let the other man lead the kiss, seeing that he has no idea what he was doing. Derek kisses him quick a few times before moving the hand that was cupping his face to the back of his head, pulling him closer. He deepened the kiss as he did so, Stiles gasped when Derek’s tongue swept across his bottom lip. 

Stiles let out a sound he didn’t even knew he could make. A high whine of want - wanting more than what was being given. Derek seemed to understand. He shifted, moving Stiles as if he weighed nothing into his lap and running his hands down his chest, never breaking the kiss. 

Now Stiles isn’t stupid. He may not have much experience when it comes to attraction (and all that comes with it) but he knows what tends to follow. Well… he knows thanks to those shoes that humans seem to love. Isaac has taken a liking to them as well and Stiles would be lying if he said he doesn’t get a little too invested. Point being, the people on those shows kiss and make out and it cuts to them laying in bed together. 

Stiles wonders if there’s a bed in this torn down house and if it’s sturdier than the house itself. 

Derek broke the kiss first, lips swollen and pink. He was panting, gazing up at Stiles before attaching his mouth to his neck - drawing another gasp out of Stiles. 

Derek’s mouth traveled slowly up his neck, sucking and biting as he went. Stiles wasn’t sure why but it felt amazing. He moaned -  _ moaned! _ \- and tilted his head to the side, giving Derek more room to roam. He took advantage of the offered skin, stopping just under Stiles’ ear.

Stiles pushed his hips down onto Derek’s, letting his body take over and guide him. The result was instant, pleasure raced through his body. So intense it made him freeze. He didn’t have much time to soak it in because Derek bucked up, bringing their hips together once again. 

Stiles relaxed more into Derek, their chests flushed. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders, hands threaded in his hair as they fell into a steady rhythm grinding against each other. Stiles initiated the next kiss, desperately pressing his lips to Derek’s. 

Derek’s hands slowly found their way to Stiles’ back, traveling lightly against his skin. He shivered and then buried his face into the crook of Derek’s shoulder as the werewolf touched his wings. 

The one unspoken rule between angles is that you never touch another’s wings on purpose. Heaven is only so big, wings are bound to brush up against one another and such, but never intentionally. Stiles isn’t sure if it was the heat of the moment, or if Derek’s touch and fingers were magic, but when his fingers made contact with his wings - Stiles has never felt so alive. It was electric. 

Derek presses him closer and Stile was sure his moans were echoing throughout the woods. 

* * *

It became a regular occurrence. 

Stiles would tell Isaac that he was going deeper and deeper into the woods, knowing something is in there, and then find himself back at the old Hale house. Derek seemed to perk up whenever Stiles would show up, his smiling lighting the entire room. At some point Stiles stopped his werewolf search before going to Derek. Attempting to hunt for other werewolves in the area, and keeping an eye out for Peter, made Stiles feel less guilty about getting close with Derek. If he did his job  _ before _ being nice to the enemy it would cancel itself out, right? 

The meeting back home snuck up on him. In all honesty he completely forgot about it. 

He didn’t tell Derek about it because it didn’t seem all that important. It’s just a quick stupid meeting about everyones progress. Stiles won’t be telling his fellow angels about his budding relationship with a werewolf. Issac had sworn to keep his mouth shut as well. Stiles knew he could trust his friend but found himself still unsure just how much he could trust him. Isaac and Stiles have never had this big of a secret between the two of them before. There’s no knowing if Isaac would crack under pressure. 

They rehearsed what they would say: there’s strong evidence of werewolves being in Beacon Hills but have not found any actual creatures. Short and sweet. No need to get wrapped up in some intricate lie. 

Stiles was nervous though, as he sat at the long table hearing about the successful mission that everyone else has had. He tried not to show just how nervous he was though, trying to keep his limbs still and his wings from fluttering too much. Isaac was next to him, staring at the table and seeming lost in thought. That worried Stiles. 

“Mieczysław, Isaac,” Deaton called for their attention. Stiles hid the wince at the use of his full name. “Your report.” 

Isaac sat up, now paying attention at the use of his name, as turned to face Deaton - hands folded neatly on the table and back straight. “Beacon Hills is a quiet town with not much going on. Stiles and I have found possible evidence of werewolves, we believe even a pack, but are yet to find anything beyond said evidence.” 

Deaton nodded, seeming to make a note of it. He looked over at Stiles. “Anything else to add?” 

Stiles shook his head, careful to keep his expression mutual. “No sir. Isaac’s said it all.” 

“So you haven’t found any werewolves at all?” Deaton asked. Stiles was unable to read his expression. When Stiles nodded again, Deaton sighed. “Alright. Meeting dismissed. We’ll meet again next month. Good work everyone.” 

Everyone got up, Stiles following everyone out. Isaac was right behind him, fiddling with his shirt and looking at his feet. Clearly they would both feel better being back on Earth and away from prying eyes and endless questions. 

“Isaac,” Deaton called as they neared the door. “Stay back for a moment. I wish to talk to you - alone.” 

The angel in questioned stiffened, panic slowly morphing into his face. He turned around to face Deaton. “What about Stiles?” 

“He can head back without you. We won’t be long.” Deaton said. 

Stiles and Isaac shared a look, the latter shrugging and walking back into the room and closed the door behind them. Stiles felt a rock settled into the pit of his stomach. He can trust Isaac, that’s what he keeps telling himself He headed down the hallway and towards the entryway back to Earth. 

He isn’t sure why it felt like something terrible was about to happen. 

* * *

“Where have you been?” Derek asked as Stiles entered the house, looking up from the book he was reading. 

“Angel stuff,” Stiles sighed, the anxious feelings still in his chest. “Isaac’s talking with Deaton.” 

“Deaton?” 

“Head angel,” Stiles answered, distracted. “He’s in charge of who goes where and what happens. Attack plans and such.” 

Derek got up and stood near Stiles, watching him pace the floor. Stiles worried his bottom lip, running his hands through his hair. Both anxious habits he’s picked up from being around humans all the time. Deaton knows, he’ll have Stiles taken off the mission and… who knows what else. 

An arm wrapping around his middle stilled him, making his thoughts leave his mind at the single touch. 

“Hey,” Derek mumbled into his neck, his wings gently pushed against his chest. “I’m sure Issac’s fine. Relax.” 

Stiles nodded, letting himself relax into Derek’s touch and focus on the feel of his lips on his neck. The kisses so light they were hardly there. Stiles’ eyes slipped closed, his head tipping back to rest on Derek’s shoulder. He wishes he could freeze this moment - this perfect moment - in time. It was perfect. 

But of course nothing perfect lasts. Not even moments. 

The front door of the house was slammed opened, Isaac stumbling in. He looked panicked and guilty, eyes wide as he looked at Stiles. 

“I’m so sorry Stiles. He knows,” He said. His voice was strained and despritate. “They’re on their way. You need to leave. Quick! Now!” 

Stiles couldn’t even answer before a blinding flash of white engulfed the house. Angels barged into the house, knocking Isaac to the side in their haste. Stiles turned to face Derek, who had wolfed out. His yellow eyes were slits, glaring at the angels that surrounded the two of them. His eyes were pointed back, face hairier and canines in plain sight, accompanied with a sneer. 

Stiles didn’t try to fight the hands that grabbed his arms, dragging him backwards and away from Derek; who was fighting back but losing quickly. The fight drained out of him as he met Stiles’ eyes, his hopelessness passing on to him. It was a lost cause to try to fight off the hands, to try to run to Derek’s side and attempt to get away. It would just cause more trouble. 

“I’m sorry.” Stiles said to Derek, tears coming to his eyes. 

Derek just looked back until he was forced into his knees and then onto the floor, face first. He looked after Stiles and he swore there were tears falling down his face and into the carpet. Stiles had to look away as he was forced out the door. He closed his eyes but the sight of Derek, face smushed into the carpet and crying, was burned into the back of his eyelids. His heart aches. Everything was falling apart so fast. 

The sun had gone down, the coldness of the night air seeming worse than usual. Stiles wasn’t sure where they were taking him but he guesses tonight will be the last time he’ll be on Earth. He’ll see Derek. In the month they’ve spent together, forgetting about the outside world, Stiles had fallen for the man. Angels aren’t made for relationships outside partnerships and kinship. Aren’t made to fall in love. 

Yet here he is, a love sick fool and an angel with a broken heart. 

There was a bright light again, tied with the feeling of jumping. Back to Heaven. 

Except, when he opened his eyes, it wasn’t the usual meeting room or even his room. It was just an empty white room. There were black shackles attached to the floor in the dead center. Stiles somehow managed to find how much they stood out comical. They were a smudge. He was forced over to them, onto his knees and his wrists were bound roughly. He looked up at the angels who secured him, not recognizing them but feeling his heart break more when they turned their backs to him and left the room. 

Alone. Abandoned by his family. 

A dove appeared in front of him. It fluffed its wings, staring up at him before pecking uselessly at the ground. The sound of its beak hitting the tile echoed through the seemingly endless room. The ringing in his ears hasn’t stopped. 

The pecking was soon accompanied by footsteps, heavy and fast. Stiles looked up as they got closer, heart beating faster when Deaton walked into the room. Oddly enough, he was alone. 

“Mieczysław,” He sighed. “What have you done?” 

Stiles felt defiance come to life inside him. He licked his lips. “I think I fell in love.” 

“With the werewolf?” 

“His name is Derek,” Stiles glared. He pulled at the chains, the rattling bouncing back at them. Stiles didn’t want to draw out the inevitable longer than needed. “Let's skip the dramatics. What are you going to do to me?” 

“Angels who break protocol, or stray from the mission, are killed,” Deaton’s tone was cold and Stiles froze up. He knew that would be the case but didn’t want to believe it. Deaton then sighed, his expression completely changing in the blink of an eye. “But for you, I cannot seem to bring myself to do it.” 

Stiles’ eyes widened. Hope blossomed in his chest. “Deaton?” 

Deaton came closer, kneeling down and looked Stiles in the eye. “You’ve always been different. When you were first created and brought to my ranks you’ve voiced how it didn’t seem fair to the creatures we were hunting that we wouldn't give them a chance; that they could have families of their own. In all my years I’ve never heard an angel question our ways. Even now you rebel and do what no angel would dare to do.” 

Stiles didn’t know what to say. Was Deaton going to show mercy? Surely he would get in trouble for that. He swallowed the emotions that threatened to overcome him. “What are you saying?” 

Deaton reached out and cupped Stiles’ cheek. “I will spare your life but you can no longer show yourself around here. You can never return,” Deaton looked pained. “You’ll be stripped of your wings but you and Derek will be safe.” 

Panic made itself known but Stiles refused to let it show. To take away an angel's wings was a fate worse than death. It’s what made him who he is. Without them he’ll be nothing. He’ll be as plain as a human… 

… a human that could do whatever they wanted. That could fall in love with a werewolf and have to answer to no one but themselves. 

Tears fell down Stiles cheeks, blurring his vision as Deaton stood. “You said Derek and I will be safe. Does that mean-?” 

“No harm has come to him. The real threat was his uncle, as Isaac had told me. We located and took care of him. As of now Derek, and the young boy, are the only werewolves in Beacon Hills.” 

Stiles sucked in his lips, not trusting himself to speak. He knows he’s getting a kinder punishment than most would. He was flooded with relief that Derek was okay and will remain okay. Heart broken to be losing his place among the angels. 

“Remain curious and fearless,” Deaton spoke. “Be safe, Stiles.” 

Stiles looked up at Deaton through tear filled eyes, seeing him smile down at him before all he knew was pain. 

Searing, red hot pain. His back felt as if someone set it on fire and proceeded to stomp it out. His bones popped. He was being ripped apart from the inside out. His own screams met his ears, echoing around them mixed with the rattling of the chains he was pulling at. He wanted nothing more than to be unconscious. It was too much. It was the worst pain he’s ever felt. He couldn’t seem to catch a breath. 

Suddenly he was falling, the pain subsiding. His back was still agony, feeling lighter than it ever did. An emptiness that he knew would be impossible to escape. He simply let himself fall, watching as his home, everything he knew, became further and further away. Soon out of sight. Leaving him alone in the clouds as Earth raced up to meet him. 

His meeting with the ground wasn’t as hard as he expected. He landed with a thud, quickly rolling onto his side. Stiles just laid there, staring at the tombstones that surrounded him. He tried to find the comiday: a fallen angel landing in a cemetery. How fucking funny. 

Slowly he sat up, reaching behind him to feel his back. He gasped when his hand only met skin, no wings. No soft feathers. His hand came back bloody, the movement of his arm making his new wounds sting. 

“Stiles!” A voice called out. He watched tiredly as Derek ran up to him. He fell onto his knees, reaching up to cup the sides of Stiles’ face. “I thought you were done for.” 

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Stiles’ voice shook. His hand came up to rest of Derek’s.

“Your wings.” Derek gasped when he noticed, his hand reaching out as if he wanted to touch. 

Stiles smiled sadly and shrugged. “There are worse fates. Now you’re really stuck with me.” 

Derek smiled at him. “I’m okay with that.” 

Stiles leaned over and kissed him. The kiss held the promise of a long and steady future together. Of all that they’ve lost and they’ve gained. Stiles may have lost his wings but he gained a life partner and that’s better than anything wish the Heavens could give him. 

It’ll be a long road to get back were he was, to come to terms of being part of the small percent of fallen angels but he knows he’ll get there. That he’ll have Derek every step of the way. He betrayed God. He betrayed his fellow angles and made his one friend lie to protect him. He’s survived all of that, he can survive life on Earth. 

“Let’s get you home.” Derek said, helping him up. 

The couple headed out of the cemetery and towards the dirt road towards the old house. Perhaps they could rebuild. Clean it of it’s past burns and broken wood and make the house into something that’s sturdy and safe.

Home was now an old run down house with a werewolf he loved. Stiles never saw that coming but couldn’t ask for anything more. 


End file.
